


music to drown by.

by aceface



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceface/pseuds/aceface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Titanic AU. David Archuleta and Michael Johns win tickets to voyage on the Titanic, but David Archuleta could never expect the events which follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	music to drown by.

Johns' face lights up when he sees David which wouldn't be so bad, only he has an air of mischief about him which David knows to rarely end well.

"Archuleta, you are just the guy I've been looking for," he says, and his grins widens which serves only to increase David's trepidation.

Johns is from Australia and why he's in Liverpool, David isn't exactly sure, especially considering he lives in America. He has a wife back there, who he never stops talking about, and he's a lot louder and ill-mannered than David could ever be but he has a certain charisma that allows him to get by. They've both been looking for a way to get back to America for a while now but it's so expensive, and the little money they make from busking is barely enough to send back to their families, never mind enough to pay for their passage back to New York.

"I think I've found the answer to all our problems," he adds, and that's how David ends up being Johns' second in a game of poker. It was one of the first games Johns taught him how to play, when they ‘found each other' as Johns likes to say, although in reality it was Johns who found David, and David would never have survived without him.

David is a perfect second to Johns; he has a naturally innocent face and their opponents immediately decide that David is nothing of a threat, allowing him to successfully hustle them. Still, he feels deceitful every time he does it, but Johns insists that this time is a necessity and David owes Johns a lot, so he goes along.

He doesn't know what they're playing for, not until Johns snatches two tickets from the table and grabs David's arm, dragging him along behind him. "The Titanic, mate!" he says excitedly, tightening his grip on David's arm. "We're going back to America!"

It all happens so fast that David barely registers what Johns has said until they're on the ship, and it's just unbelievable. It really is. They're on the _Titanic_.

The ship -- the Titanic itself -- is amazing. David is awed, it's bigger than anything he's seen before -- bigger than his house, bigger than thousands of his house, all stacked on top of each other. In a way, it's a little sad -- it's a _boat_, and surely it doesn't need chandeliers or crystal glasses (so David hears, anyway; it's not like he'll get the chance to view them for himself) and he can't help thinking of Amber, sick at home, and how much even a hundredth of the cost would have helped her.

But that's the way rich people are, and always have been, and even if displays of their wealth make David feel a little sick with disgust, there is still no way he can change it. His voyage on the Titanic is costing him nothing, and he will return home soon, home to Amber, and all his family, so. He should be grateful; without this display of wealth, he would still be stuck in Southampton, making money from singing on the streets.

Johns catches up to him, hanging over the rail and waving at the people as the boat departs. It's not like sailing, _really_ sailing, which David loves. He can't feel the movement of the ocean below him, it's just like being on land -- except the wind whips through his hair and stings his cheeks red, and he smiles at Johns in spite of himself.

Johns grins back, and then blows kisses to a pretty dark-haired girl on the dock who blushes and turns away. "Do you know her?" David asks, eyes wide, and Johns shrugs with one shoulder.

"No, but it doesn't matter. I don't know any of these people, but you still wave and cheer." He nudges David in the side with his elbow, "It's the thing to do, Archie."

David has never been very good at ‘the thing to do', although he tries, but he still waves with Johns at all the people. They all look happy, and David himself can't help being glad that he's going back to America -- back to his _family_. He can't wait to see them all again; Jazzy, Claudia, Amber, Daniel... He's been constantly keeping in touch through letters, of course, but letters are impersonal and unreliable and he just wants to be able to gather them to him and hug them, really.

"I'm going home," he says softly to himself and smiles.

\---

David is sat out on deck when he sees the guy. Out on deck is David's favourite place to be. Well, not during the day, because all the first class spend their time on the deck above and David feels like they're surveying the peasants or whatever which, yeah, David has nowhere near as much money as them but he still doesn't want to be... surveyed.

But at night, it's lovely. It's cold but the wind isn't as bad, and most people stay inside -- especially the rich people, who go to dinner or the ballroom whatever. It doesn't look fun, from what little David's seen of it. Below decks is much more fun, they have crazy parties and David loves the dancing, only the rum and ale keeps flowing and David made a promise to his family not to drink that he's not going to break now.

So instead, he lies back on one of the benches and looks at the stars and thinks that with every second, he's getting closer and closer to home, so close he can almost feel it. He twists around to sit up properly, and catches sight of a dark figure at the other end of the deck.

He wanders over because maybe some companionship would be nice, only the guy is actually _on the other side of the rail_ and he looks like he's about to fall at any moment, oh my heck, so David doesn't think twice about running over and grabbing the guy's arm and saying, "Oh my gosh, don't jump!"

The guy turns around slowly, raising an eyebrow at David and says, "Thanks for your concern, but I wasn't actually planning to."

"Oh," David says, letting go of the guy's arm. "Of course you weren't. Gosh, sorry, ignore me, I'm just -- I mean, it looked like -- and --"

The guy is ignoring him, climbing easily back over the railings and shaking David's hand. "David Cook. Thanks for attempting to save my life." He quirks his mouth in amusement and David expects to feel stupid but finds himself smiling back at David Cook in response.

"David Archuleta, and, um, any time?"

"So we're both called David, huh? Good taste in names, I guess." David Cook is still smiling as he leans against the railing, hands in pockets. "I won't be able to keep calling you David, though, too confusing."

David must have missed the bit where they were suddenly on first name terms but it would be rude to argue so instead he offers, "Well, Johns -- my friend, he calls me Archie?"

"Archie." David Cook rolls the name around on his tongue, like he's getting the feel for it, and then grins. "I approve. And you can just call me Cook, that's simple enough." He glances at his watch, then back at David. "Actually, I have to retire to my rooms now," Cook says, pulling a face. "But hey, you saved my life, right? Care to escort me around the deck tomorrow?" 

He grins at David like he's joking, but there's a note of something else underneath it, and David blurts out, "Um, _yes_," before he realises, almost missing the relief that flashes across Cook's face.

"I'll meet you here, tomorrow," Cook says, before turning and leaving David alone with his thoughts.

\---

The next day, David wakes early. He has the distinct feeling that something good has happened and he basks in it before it all comes back to him in a rush; meeting Cook last night, spending time with him today, simply being on the Titanic and going home. The novelty of the latter has still not worn off.

Johns is still asleep in the bunk above – he sleeps til noon, some days – and so David rolls out of his own bunk and manages to get dressed very quietly, without waking the other people in the cabin. The other two are friends of the men that David and Johns won tickets from, but Johns managed to win them over easily so they don't harbour any resentment.

Cook didn't tell David what time to meet him on deck but that's okay; David didn't have anything planned for today and he doesn't mind waiting around. He likes watching the people go about their business anyway, and sometimes he uses the time to try and better his song writing (it does, however, seem to be a waste of time. David prefers singing _other_ people's songs).

Cook comes over at around noon, grinning all over his face and extending a hand to David. "Wow, I'm not used to being on this deck during the day," he says straight away, looking around at all the people at about the same time that David notices the expensive cut of Cook's coat and, oh my gosh, Cook is like... he's _wealthy_. David wonders if he knows David _isn't_, but then he remembers the ragged edge to his clothes and the patch on his knee and, yeah, it's not exactly well hidden. It's not hidden at _all_, and David is surprised at Cook even choosing to associate with him.

Cook persuades him to come explore the upper decks, somewhere David has never been, and it's like David's patched clothes don't even matter. Cook doesn't address the distinction between them; just acts like it doesn't exist until even David begins to believe it. They hang over the railings and it reminds David of leaning out of the windows at home, Daniel teaching him how to spit.

He says as much to Cook, whose eyes light up in a way David is already beginning to recognise as meaning trouble. "You can spit? Like – I've always wished to know how," he says, and David pretends not to notice the way Cook slips back into formal tones automatically, the moment he gets anywhere near speaking in a more casual way. "Show me."

David smiles, remembering what Daniel taught him. "Okay, you have to – gather some, um, saliva in your mouth, and then just... spit. There's not really a way."

Cook raises an eyebrow at that, but he dutifully spits over the side. It's kind of pathetic, _Daniel_ wouldn't have hesitated to say so, but David just laughs. "I know, I know," Cook says, still watching him. "But you wouldn't _show_ me, so..."

David rolls his eyes a little, but he hawks up some spit and lets go. It's totally gross, not to mention ill manners, and he's always hated it but it reminds him of home and it makes Cook smile. He's never seen a smile like Cook's; it's like the sun coming out from behind clouds (and seriously, if that's the best metaphor David can think of then it's no wonder he can't write songs. He just can't think of anything more perfect to describe it, though).

Cook's watching him intently and David feels a blush spreading over his neck for no reason at all. "So you just... hold on, let me try that."

It's a better attempt but still kind of pathetic, and Cook takes one look at David's expression and cracks up laughing. He doubles over and David grips his arm, to try and pull him up. It doesn't work, but someone else takes hold of Cook's arm and hoists him up.

Cook takes one look at the guy and sobers up, although he still has a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Andrew. I didn't expect you to leave the cabin after your bout of sickness this morning."

"Evidently," Andrew says dryly. "And are you going to introduce me to your companion? I know social skills aren't your strong point, David."

Cook grins, tugging David forward, who can do nothing more than flush and stare at his feet. He can feel the inquisitive gazes of Andrew and his friends; two other men and a lady. The lady is the only one who seems friendly; she smiles at David when she catches his eye.

"This is David Archuleta and he saved my life," Cook says, ignoring David's mumbled protest.

Andrew raises an eyebrow, something familiar, and David realises they're probably brothers. "Well, nice to meet you, Mr Archuleta. You probably shouldn't have bothered." He turns back to Cook, and it's almost like David isn't even there. He's suddenly very strongly reminded of his place in society. "David, I'll see you tonight at the captain's table."

The lady – "Carly," Cook tells him in a whisper – squeezes David's arm and grins at him before following the other three. David feels kind of humiliated, actually. It's just – he was having such a nice time with Cook, he'd almost fooled himself into thinking that they were equal.

They're not though, and David's going to try and remember it in future.

\---

Except it's not that easy, of course. Cook seems to have taken a liking to him, David isn't sure why. He doesn't question it, and although he tries to avoid Cook, he can't deny that he enjoys spending time with him. Cook is funny and easy to get along with, and he makes David feel like he _matters_, like he's worth something, and that's not something David can easily give up.

Johns finds it amusing that they spend day after day together, but after a week he stops David before he can leave the cabin one morning.

"Archie, just let me talk to you for a minute."

"Um, sure," David says, a little confused, and sits back down on the bunk. "What's on your mind?"

"I just wanted to check that this Cook guy isn't taking advantage of you," Johns says, and he sounds concerned which is... surprising, but the more David thinks about it, it shouldn't be. They've been looking out for each other for a while now, since they met, and Johns isn't going to stop just because they happen to be on a ship now.

"He isn't," David says, but Johns doesn't look convinced. "He _isn't_, Michael."

"You don't know that and it worries me how easily he seems to have gained your confidence," Johns says, tone serious. "Archie, think about what you're doing. Even if he _is_ genuine, everyone he associates with won't approve of you."

"I know," David says and then stops, because he doesn't have anything to follow it up with.

Johns makes a face, but he stops blocking David's exit. "Just... shit, Arch, be careful, okay?"

"I will," David promises, and then flails his hands. "I just – um, I just..." He wants to say thank you, but Michael Johns isn't really a thank you kind of person, and David isn't comfortable giving him a hug or a handshake or whatever. Johns seems to know what he's thinking though, because he rolls his eyes but nudges David's shoulder.

"Go on, I can tell you want to."

It's like Johns can see the future or something, because Andrew is waiting with Cook when David finds them. He starts to turn and leave, because they maybe don't want any interruptions and besides, Andrew has made it quite clear that he disapproves of David ("He's just looking out for me," Cook says, when David asks him about it, so David thinks Andrew is Cook's less awesome version of Johns). Andrew sees him, however, so David has no choice but to go meet them.

"Mr Archuleta," Andrew greets him. "As you've been spending so much time with my brother recently, I wondered if you'd grant us all the pleasure of your company."

"Um," David says, glancing at Cook for a hint of what the right thing to do would be, but Andrew clearly has his mind made up.

"Very well. We shall see you on the grand staircase at six?"

There's a hint of a challenge in his tone and David isn't – he's never been one to rise to a challenge but there's something in Andrew's eyes that doesn't let him back down. "Six," he repeats decisively and only allows himself to worry once Andrew has left.

Suddenly, this isn't fun anymore.

\---

"Hey, cutie," Carly says, beaming when she sees David who flaps his hands at her because, _hi_, she can't just go around _saying_ stuff like that! "What's up?" She nods at his hair. "Trying to look good for someone?"

"Oh," David says, flushing as he remembers that he'd attempted to slick his hair back earlier in a desperate attempt to look less _poor_. "I, um, maybe? Cook -- his brother invited me to dinner, because we've been spending so much time together."

"And you're wearing that?" Carly asks, shaking her head sadly when David nods. "Oh, honey, no. Come with me."

It turns out that Carly's absent husband is... actually a lot bigger than David, but Carly is magical with a sewing needle and some thread and manages to adjust the dress shirt and pants to look more or less passable. She fixes David's hair as well, which he is _so_ grateful for seeing as how he was unable to do anything with it himself without looking like some hedgehog or whatever, and then holds out her hand.

"Ready to escort an old lady to dinner?"

"You're not old," David says, "well, you're only as old as mother, anyway, and that's not..." He trails off in time to put a horrified hand over his mouth; luckily, Carly is laughing. David's mouth has always run away with him, his family despaired of ever bringing him into polite society. He's managed to get a hold on it now, but he still has these moments when he doesn't think before he opens his mouth.

"I'm going to be cast out," he says miserably, dreading what will happen if he slips up tonight, but Carly links her arm through his and says, "No, you're not. You're just going to sit along next to me and I'll help you out, don't worry."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" David asks, feeling braver, and Carly fixes him with an unreadable look.

"Someone should be," she says, closing the door behind them. "Class isn't everything, you know. Neither is money."

The thing is, David decides, that it's easy for Carly to say that because she _has_ money now she's married her rich oil husband or whatever, but he's willing to bet that she didn't have that kind of attitude before. David actually thinks that if he had class _and_ money then his life would be a lot easier, is all.

The butterflies started around the time Andrew invited him to dinner and they've multiplied in their thousands. David has never felt so nervous, not even when he left home for the first time. He feels ridiculous in his borrowed suit and keeps getting odd looks from all the men and women they pass.

"Do I have something on my face?" he whispers to Carly, who takes one look at him and lets out a loud laugh before pinching his cheek.

"You are just too cute."

Which, um, okay, that's not really what David was going for but it's also not a ‘yes', so he counts his blessings. They stand at the top of the staircase and David concentrates entirely on, like, trying not to fall over as he makes his way slowly down the stairs. He suspects that Carly is holding onto him as much for his own peace of mind as to follow the social niceties.

When they get to the foot of the stairs, David turns to help Carly and instead sees Cook; _Cook_, who is staring at him with a look in his eyes David hasn't seen before, and his gaze drags slowly over David and causes a warm flush to travel over him from head to toe. It's unusual but not unpleasant, and David feels warmer the more Cook's gaze intensifies.

It takes Carly to break them out of it, leaning forward and offering her arm to David. "It would be novel to have an escort on either side," she says, and Cook laughs and doesn't even hesitate before taking her arm.

He keeps looking back at David, not even trying to be subtle, and David feels dizzy under the weight of Cook's glances. It's a high that wears off as soon as David steps into the dining room, and sees the many different types of cutlery.

Carly leans in and says, "Start from the outside and work your way in," which is helpful, but it's not just that. It's that – okay, it's ridiculous, but the cutlery is just reminding David of _all_ the thing he has no idea about. It's not just the cutlery, it's the other things that are going to throw him, and David wishes he was like Johns and could just _make_ people like him, with seemingly no effort.

Judging from the looks on everyone else's faces, David's wish hasn't been granted.

\---

Cook catches up to him, jogging to keep up and David decides to stop and wait. Cook slows to a walk and bumps shoulders with David, walking next to him. "So I didn't know it was going to be like that."

David frowns a little bit because, yeah, it had been horrendous, but he didn't really expect anything else. "Like what?"

"Like... everyone judging you," Cook says, his face solemn. "I wouldn't have wanted you there if I'd known. I swear to you, Archie."

And David doesn't know what else Cook _could_ have thought it would be like but the expression on Cook's face makes up for it, and he touches Cook's elbow and says, "It's okay." He gives Cook his best smile too, and it doesn't even feel forced.

"It's just so _boring_ all the time," Cook says, with a roll of his eyes and David thinks of Johns below decks, wanting to look out for David but not knowing how, and says "Well, I mean, I know where there's a better party, if you want?"

Cook blinks but says, "I'm always up for a party," and David smiles wide enough that he thinks his face might split.

Cook starts to look more nervous the further they get below deck and it's clear he's never been there before, and he grips David's hand as David opens the door and a loud raucous burst of noise escapes. Still, if David had to go to Cook's dinner party then Cook _totally_ has to feel uncomfortable down here.

Johns spots them the moment they enter and gives David a look that clearly reads _make yourself scarce for a few moments_ (or, more likely, _get lost_). Normally David would try and hang around to make sure that Johns wasn't, like, threatening Cook's life or anything but he's still feeling like he deserves payback for that horrible dinner party and, well, it's not like Johns will do anything _too_ bad.

Besides, David can see Allison across the room, sat on her own and looking morose so he doesn't waste any time in heading over. "Allison."

"David!" Allison's face lights up and she jumps up from the crate she'd been sitting on. "You'll dance with me, won'tcha?" David loves Allison's accent; her voice is husky and it's unlike anything he's heard before – she's one of the few people on the ship he found it easy to make friends with. 

"Um, sure," David says and Allison grabs his hand and pulls him into the whirl of people. David tips his head back and laughs as Allison spins him around and easily moves through the crowd of people. David isn't a dancer, not by a long shot, but Allison makes it so easy that all he has to do is try and keep up.

Someone taps his shoulder and David glances up to see Cook. He's still smiling, which is a good sign, and he's lost the jacket and unbuttoned his shirt a little in an effort to fit in. He looks slightly dishevelled but David is aware that he is no better; tousled and a little out of breath.

"May I cut in?"

"Oh, sure," Allison says at once, eyes darting between the two of them, and she all but pushes David into Cook's arms. "I'm going to go dance with Johns, anyway, he's less clumsy than you, David."

Which is a fair point, but David is aware of Cook's arms around him and Cook gazing down at him with that ever-present smirk on his lips. "Hi."

Cook doesn't say anything, just begins to spin David in the energetic jig he'd been doing with Allison earlier, and they gallop around and around the room, Cook's arms warm at his back and their gaze never faltering. David is soon out of breath but Cook's keeping him upright and doesn't let him stumble.

Eventually the song ends and David collapses onto the bench, trying to regain his dignity. Cook sits next to him, slipping an arm around David and tugging him close. "Look at you," he teases. "Aren't you supposed to be used to this?"

"I don't do this very often," David admits, but he's distracted by Cook stroking his hand up and down David's face. He has to get out of there, get away from Cook, and fast – because although Cook acts like the class divide isn't there, it is, and David doesn't want to do anything stupid.

_Anything stupid like falling for Cook?_ his mind supplies treacherously, and David pushes away the thought that he already has.

\---

"Heyyy," Cook says, leaning across David's lap and grabbing the pad on his knees before David even has time to point out how completely inappropriate that is. "What's this?" He glances up at David and grins. "Keeping secrets from me, Archuleta?"

"Um, no?" David says hopefully because it's not exactly a secret, okay, it's just something he's never really shared with Cook. Especially because, hi, Cook is like... like a _lord_ or something (or just someone of good birth, but still) and he doesn't really think that dropping his music into conversation is exactly something he should do. Not when Cook is probably used to hearing classically trained pianists, or whatever.

"I think you are," Cook says firmly, then opens the pad and starts flipping through it. David wants to be pretty much anywhere else right now, but there's no way he's leaving his songs with Cook, so instead he presses his legs together and stares down at his hands, willing his face not to turn a horrible shade of red.

Cook looks up again, his mouth quirking into an amused smile, and David feels his face flood with colour. "I know they're bad, okay," he mutters, still staring at his hands. "I can't _write_ songs, I just... I like to sing."

"Sing to me," Cook says, his eyes gleaming as David dares to look at him, and oh gosh, this whole thing is just going from bad to worse. David wishes he'd never gone up to Cook when he was dangling himself from the ship or whatever, it was a bad idea and clearly is not going to end well, especially not if this latest disaster is anything to go by.

"I don't sing in public," he says, adding "And the deck of the ship totally counts as public, okay," before Cook can say anything else.

"No, hey, I wasn't going to argue," Cook says in that tone that means he totally _was_. "I just... you know what, if you don't want to sing in public, that's fine."

It's stupid of David to feel relieved, because Cook does not give up that easily, but he does anyway and so it's even more unexpected when Cook says, "But you know what, you should totally swing by my cabin and sing to me."

David's about to say no automatically because -- it's just so many levels of inappropriate. Cook is first class and David is -- to everyone but Cook, David is little better than a pauper. He has no breeding and no class, and if he is found in Cook's cabin, he will be nothing more than a thief or a... a _pet_, which David considers even worse. He may not have much -- money, food, bearing -- but he has his reputation, and he has his _dignity_, and he's not going to give that up just to be some organ grinder's monkey.

But Cook's looking at him as though he can read David's mind (and sometimes David believes that he can, because how else could Cook have got under his skin so easily and so quickly?) and reaches out with one hand to curl it around David's arm, warm and reassuring.

"You don't have to," he says softly, tilting David's chin with his other hand to make him meet his eyes. "I'm not trying to order you around, Archie, you know I'd never do that. I'd just.... I'd really like it, that's all."

"You don't even know that I can sing," David protests half-heartedly but it's an agreement, and he can tell Cook knows that by the way his eyes crinkle up in the corners as he smiles.

"I'll meet you here, at eight," Cook says, standing and tossing David's papers back into his lap. He winks, turning to go and says, "Don't be late, Archuleta."

David sighs and leans back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. As though his life isn't already difficult enough; disguising himself with Cook's old jacket and hat to try and hide the fact he's basically an intruder on the upper decks and trying to forget what could happen if he gets caught. Now he's got to worry about what happens if he's caught in Cook's _cabin_, oh gosh, and he'll be _singing_.

Johns chooses that moment to flop down next to him and poke David in the side. "Hey, mate, you just squeaked."

"That's because you poked me in the side!" David points out, but Johns just laughs and says, "Yeah, I know, but before that."

David... actually hadn't realised that he'd made a noise of distress out loud, but he was flailing internally so it kind of made sense that he'd do it on the outside as well. Johns is still looking at him expectantly so David sighs and says, "Cook wants me to go to his cabin tonight."

Johns raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong with that? Is he moving too fast for you, because I'll have a word--"

"Gosh, no!" David says hurriedly because, heck, he hadn't even _thought_ about that. "He doesn't even like me like that, we're just friends." Johns is still looking at him, his face a mix of amusement and disbelief that David could be so _naive_, or whatever, so David adds, "He, um, he wants me to sing for him."

Johns stares at him for a few seconds longer before bursting out in laughter and slapping his knee. "Of course he does. Shit, David, only you could land a first-class and end up being his trained monkey."

Johns manages to say exactly what David was thinking, of course. But... Cook isn't like that, not really. If it was anyone else (except maybe Carly) then David might believe it, but after the disaster of a dinner yesterday... David has learned to recognise the superior look on people's faces when they're looking down on him, and it's something he's never seen in Cook, so.

\---

"What do you want me to sing?" 

They're in Cook's cabin and it's more luxurious than anything David's ever seen; there's a _fireplace_, and it's all gold and sparkling and his feet sink into the carpet when he walks. He's terrified of breaking something or getting dirt somewhere, but Cook had seen his face when he entered and said, "Yeah, it's a gilded cage," in this bitter voice, so David thinks it'd be best for him not to mention it.

Cook looks at ease, anyway; he's sat on a weird couch, bigger at one side than the other, and he's kicked off his shoes to rest his feet on the table. David has to resist the urge to push his feet away, it's just, this stuff is all so _nice_, and he can't help thinking that if he sold it, just one item, it could probably feed his family for _years_. (He doesn't say that, though. He would never say that.)

"I don't know." Cook shrugs, leaning further back against the arm of the couch. "Anything you like. Something you wrote."

"Um, no," David says, then realises he's just said no to someone in Cook's position and backtracks hurriedly. "I mean, if you want? It's just -- I don't really like my own songs, they're not very good, I'd rather sing something else—"

"Then sing something else," Cook says, laughing. "I'm not going to beat you if you don't please me, Archie, calm yourself. Sing whatever you like, just... sing for me. Please."

It's the ‘please' that does it, really. It puts them as equals (although David is beginning to think of them as anything other less and less; when they're on the ship together, it's like they are just two people together. It's only the reminders in places like Cook's cabin that jolt him back into reality).

So David closes his eyes and begins to sing something he heard for the first time back in America, before he left, and that stuck with him ever since. It's called _Hallelujah_ and he heard Mr Buckley sing it, in a coffee shop that he sat outside one time. It's one of the most beautiful songs David has ever heard but he doesn't sing it often -- torn between sadness at the melancholy of the song and a deep-seated resentment that he knows he'll never be able to create anything even half as good. He'd told this to Mr Buckley, working up the courage to speak to him, and Mr Buckley had said that he felt the same way; _he'd_ first heard it from Mr Cohen, so David likes that he's singing it now. Like it's being passed on.

Cook is quiet and at first David can hear him breathing, but then he's lost in the song and forgets everything, forgets where he is, even forgets that Cook is with him. He just hears his voice and the song and it's just -- it's magical, this feeling, David could never stop singing, could never lose this knowledge, this place deep inside of him.

He feels a light touch on his face and opens his eyes to see Cook, knelt in front of him, staring up at his face. "Don't stop," Cook says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't stop."

So David closes his eyes and carries on singing, feeling Cook's touch on his face, his arms, all over. And then Cook kisses him, a simple press of mouth to mouth, and David barely has enough breath to sing but he still does, gasping out _hallelujah_ as Cook kisses him again, mouth open and moving, and David can't sing as their mouths move together, Cook's tongue licking over David's lips as he curls one hand around the back of David's neck.

"And every breath we drew was hallelujah," Cook quotes afterwards with a straight face, while David's mouth is swollen and he's still struggling to think. He looks at David properly and his eyebrows dip in concern, stroking a thumb across David's mouth. "Was that... I didn't ask," he finishes, sounding unsure for the first time since David's met him.

"Um," David says lamely. He's having trouble gathering his thoughts, and the constant pressure of Cook's thumb against his mouth doesn't help matters. "I," he tries again, "Did you mean to do that?"

Cook frowns, then smiles hesitantly. "I didn't fall on your mouth, if that's what you mean."

"No, I just," David says, then abandons his attempts at courtesies and proper speaking and says, "But you could have anyone and I'm, I'm not wealthy or proper, Cook."

"You are the most proper person I have ever met," Cook says in a low voice, his grip tightening on David's neck and the touch makes David's breath hitch. "You are beautiful and I've thought that since I first saw you. Dammit, I sound like a... a toff, but I want you, Archie."

David wonders dazedly how he could be so lucky as Cook kisses him again and again, and he can still feel Cook's mouth ghosting over his for the rest of the day as he goes about his business. It would almost be a dream if not for the note Cook had written on his papers; _I want you._

\---

Being with Cook is like nothing David had ever imagined. He'd never imagined being with _anyone_. He'd thought about it, off-hand, but it was one of those things that he never thought would happen to him. But even if he'd had expectations, this would have outdone all of them. It's just little things like holding hands and, gosh, David never thought – he's held hands before, with his sisters or his mother, but not like this. It didn't shoot sparks up and down his arm and make his face heat up and it didn't make David feel safe and wanted. 

Keeping it a secret isn't something David would have imagined either but if he had, he would've thought it would be a bad thing. It's not, though, not necessarily; it's David's choice to keep it a secret (Cook wants to tell Andrew, wants to tell _everyone_, but David won't let him, can't let him) so it's not like Cook is ashamed of him. And it's... nice, having something all to himself, keeping the memories of the two of them in his head and hugging them close to his chest.

The secret keeps him warm, in his stomach, and – so David had already been nicknamed Smiling Boy, but now it's a permanent grin, because – this is love, David's under no illusions. Maybe not for Cook but for David it is, and loving someone like this – with all his heart, with all his _being_, it's all he can think about and all he desires is Cook's happiness – loving someone like this is the most rewarding thing.

David thinks that if he got any happier then he'd burst, and one look at Cook tells him that Cook knows exactly how he feels. They don't talk about it, about whatever this is, they just spend time together. All David wants is to be around Cook as much as he can, and they stay in Cook's cabins or hide in empty rooms, sometimes venturing out to walk along the deck as a treat. It's best, David thinks, when they do it at night, and watch the stars and sometimes Cook makes up stories about them and whispers them into his ear—

_"That one is a boy who fell from the sky. He was a shooting star and he fell to earth, but he was too beautiful and no one could take their eyes from him. But the star next to him loved him and grieved for him and wouldn't sleep until they were reunited. They're called Archus and Cookus."_

\--until his stubble tickles David's cheek and goosebumps rise on his arms. The best time of all is when they sing together, sing straight out until their words get lost into the wind and it's like another secret that the two of them share.

One night, Cook climbs onto the railings like the first time they met, and David can't help pulling him down because, _hi_, he could fall off and _drown_. Cook glances at him though, searching David's face and says, "Hey, come on, Archie, just climb up here."

David can't say no to Cook, could never say no to him (and he tries not to think about that because the amount of _power_ Cook has over him is ridiculous) but he hesitates anyway.

"C'mon," Cook says, in a gentler tone, sensing David's reluctance. "Do you trust me?"

"I," David says and Cook leans down and says, "I'll get you closer to the stars, Archie, do you trust me?"

"I trust you," David says, even if his voice quavers a bit, and he climbs up onto the railings, spreading his arms for balance. Cook's arms are around him, just like when they were dancing; warm and safe and making sure that David would never fall and he opens his arms and it's like he's _flying_.

"This is beautiful," David says, and Cook huffs out a laugh and says, "Just what I was thinking."

\---

David is not expecting it at all when Andrew corners him on the deck one day and that's the only excuse he has for the undignified noise he makes. Andrew half-smiles and but David is too busy gripping the rail with both hands and searching for a way out. (There isn't one, of course.)

"I want to talk to you," Andrew says and then gestures at the deckchairs. He seems just as awkward about this as David does, which is a slight comfort, but it must be something serious if he's sought David out on the lower deck and David holds that accountable for the sick feeling in his throat which is making his hands shake.

They sit opposite each other, positioned awkwardly, and David traps his hands between his knees in an attempt to stop them from shaking. They look at each other for a few moments, and then Andrew softens and leans forward.

"I'm sorry, Archuleta." David knows what's coming so he stands and tries to make his excuses but Andrew doesn't stop talking. "You seem nice and I don't want to hurt you. But my brother won't. You must know, you're not suitable, and your presence is beginning to affect things for him."

David sits back down slowly, not because he wants to stay but because his legs seem like they might collapse beneath him. "I don't want to..." He trails off, unsure of what he doesn't want to do; ruin things? Leave Cook?

"I know," Andrew says, and leans back to pass a hand over his eyes. "I wish there was some other way, Archuleta. The point remains; at the end of this voyage, you are both going to go your separate ways, and I don't want my brother throwing his reputation away for the sake of, what? A few more weeks?"

David's eyes are stinging and his vision is beginning to blur but he still stares resolutely ahead, determined not to let Andrew see his reaction. "So you don't want me to see him anymore."

"No," Andrew agrees. "No, and I'm sorry, I really am, but you must have known. It was always going to end."

If David _had_ known, he'd pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to forget about it. He hadn't thought about what would happen at the end of the voyage, he'd just enjoyed the time they'd spent together. He hadn't imagined it would ever end, which he now realises was naive. Cook and David _aren't_ equal, and Cook can pretend as much as he wants but it doesn't change things, it doesn't change _anything_.

"And this isn't good for you, either," Andrew continues. "You have a reputation to think about as much as my brother does, and you know people will begin to talk if you spend too much time together. I'm not threatening you, Archuleta, believe me. But people do talk, and they will create rumours. And rumours follow you."

Andrew rises and David follows automatically, shaking the hand Andrew offers. Andrew pauses, resting a hand on David's shoulder. "You're a good man," he says quietly and David nods, just wanting Andrew to leave. Andrew hesitates, biting his lip, but then he turns and David watches him walk across the deck and inside, going back to the first class. Going back to _Cook_.

Apparently Andrew hasn't had the same conversation with Cook (or Cook just doesn't care if he has) because the next day, Cook catches up to him, smiling a little confusedly.

"Archie, wait. Where were you yesterday? We were supposed to..." He trails off when he sees David's face, and groans. "Andrew spoke to you, didn't he." It's not a question and doesn't need any confirmation from David. "Damnit, I knew he would. Listen to me, Archie, just ignore him. He means well, but he doesn't—"

"He _does_," David interrupts, tiredly. "Because at the end of this – when we get to New York, you're going to go back to your life and I'm going to go back to mine and it's – there's no point. People are already beginning to talk, it's not worth it."

"'It's not worth it'," Cook repeats, flatly. "Is that really what you think?"

"It's not!" David yells, then lowers his voice. "Cook, if we get caught, you will be fine but I will not. I have a family and I need to do what's best for them. I need to do what's best for _you_."

"You honestly think that _this_ is what's best for me?" Cook's eyes flash dangerously but David turns away. "Don't walk _away_ from me!"

Johns is in the cabin when David returns and doesn't say anything, which David is thankful for. He climbs into his bunk and turns onto his side, staring at the blank wall. The Titanic is supposed to be the ship of dreams, it's supposed to be wonderful and the best time of his life.

It wasn't supposed to break his heart.

\---

Cook finds him on the deck after a few days. David hasn't ventured out of his cabin in this time, except to eat hunks of bread and drink some water. He tried going to the dances one night, but it reminded him too much of Cook and he couldn't deal with the sympathetic looks that Allison kept giving him from across the room.

He's lying in his bunk when he needs air, more than anything; the ship is starting to feel claustrophobic and David just wants to get away from it, away from the same decks and cabins and corridors that are filled with memories of Cook. He feels safe on deck, even though the railings remind him of the feeling of Cook's arms around him and how deceptively safe he'd felt.

"Archie," says a firm voice behind him and David realises with a sinking feeling that Cook isn't going to let him walk away from him a second time.

"What is it?" he asks, without looking, and stills when he feels Cook's hand on his shoulder. 

"I've come up with a solution," and there's a note of desperation in Cook's voice that David has never heard before. "We don't have to part at the end of this."

"What?" David pulls away from the railings, turning to face Cook. "What are you _talking_ about, have you taken mad—"

"Run away with me," Cook says, and one look at his face is enough to convince David that he isn't joking. "Archie, please. We can -- we can make it, I promise."

"Don't," David whispers, so quietly he can barely hear himself over the pounding of his own heart. "Don't do this, don't ask me to do this, Cook, please."

"Why?" Cook asks, catching David's hands with his own. "I love you. I want to be with you all the _time_, we can do this, you _know_ we can. I love you, Archie," he repeats softly and the blood is rushing in David's ears. It's all happening so fast and it's what he wants but at the same time it's not what he wanted at all, and he can't _think_ properly, not like this.

He bites his lip, trying to collect his thoughts and staring at his feet instead of at Cook, knowing he won't be able to deny him. "We... Cook, you have obligations," he says weakly.

"Damn my obligations!" Cook hisses. "_I_ am the one with everything to lose, Archie, this should be an easy decision for you -- especially if you love me as you say you do! You said it yourself, you have no reputation to speak of, your name means nothing--"

"But my name is not disgraced," David points out, in a low voice. "My name is all I _have_. You don't understand -- if we are caught --"

"We _won't_ be," Cook insists, but David shakes his head and pulls his hands from Cook's grasp.

"If we are caught, you will not suffer the consequences," he reminds Cook. "You have your name, you -- you are wealthy, and first class. You will be reprimanded, but nothing serious. I could -- they could _kill me_ for this."

"I won't let that happen," Cook says, and there's a note of steel in the serious tone of his voice that David has never heard before.

"You may not have a choice," David tells him, and turns away to rub his hand over his face. "I can't say no to you, Cook. Whatever you ask of me, I shall do. So I'm begging you -- I have family at home, who depend on me. Don't ask me to do this."

Cook sighs, deep and heavy, and something in his face changes. "I won't," he says, and David reaches for his arm but Cook shakes him off. "Not now, Archuleta," he says and it stings, more than it should. "I can't look at you right now."

\---

Johns puts up with two whole days of David's moping before he rolls his eyes and says, "I'm guessing this is something to do with David Cook?"

"Um," David says and then, "Kind of? I – it's okay, I sorted it."

"You didn't sort it properly if it's making you feel like this, Archie," Johns says. "Shit, I did not sign up to be a therapist," he adds, sitting down next to David anyway. "What's he done now?"

"Asked me to run away with him," David mumbles and John lets out a low whistle.

"Y'think he was serious?"

"I don't know," David admits. "He said... he loved me."

"Only you, mate," Johns says, letting out a laugh. "I don't know how you do it, to be honest." He nudges David's shoulder. "So what'd you say?"

"Well, I said _no_!" David waves his hands to illustrate his point. "I mean, he's all, he's _rich_, and he won't want me, and then I just, it wouldn't work!"

"So you said you don't love him?" Johns asks and David widens his eyes.

"Oh, gosh, no, I, I said I wouldn't run _away_ with him."

"So you _do_ love him?" Johns presses and David collapses back onto his bunk, covering his eyes with his hands.

"You can't love someone after three weeks."

"You can't?" Johns says, acting surprised. "When I met Stacy, I knew I loved her from the minute I saw her, Arch."

"Don't," David says, and Johns stands up after ruffling David's hair with one hand.

"If you love him, you should be with him. That's all I'm gonna say, mate."

David only just manages to wait for Johns to leave before he grabs his coat and goes rushing out to find Cook. He manages to get to Cook's cabin without being caught and, like, _hung_ for being in first class, and hesitates before knocking on the door, shifting from foot to foot. It's just – what if he's making a mistake? Andrew had seemed pretty sure about what would make Cook happy.

"But I love him," David mutters under his breath and knocks decisively on the door. He still feels like running away after, but Cook answers the door almost straight away.

He looks really tired. That's the first thing David notices; the bags under his eyes, his face pale and drawn, and the darker stubble – not fashionable anymore, instead it just looks like Cook hasn't shaved in a few days. _Because of you_, says the treacherous voice again, and David ignores the sharp stab of guilt he feels in his gut.

He'd thought of things to say on the way over; speeches professing his love, heartfelt apologies, but all of these leave his mind once Cook is stood directly in front of him and he doesn't think twice before standing on his tiptoes and pressing his mouth to Cook's in a chaste kiss.

Cook doesn't react and David turns to go, already feeling his heart sink into his boots, but Cook grabs his arm and spins him around, pushing him against the wall. He has an arm on each side of David's face, pinning him to the wall, and David's breathing so heavily he can hear himself gasping each breath.

"You can't do this," Cook says, his face so close to David's that David can't see anything else (and never wants to). "You don't get to... to just walk over here and make it all alright again."

David swallows, throat dry, and says, "I'm sorry." It's like it's the signal Cook's been waiting for, because he kisses David so hard that David's lips feel bruised and he can taste the metallic tang of blood at the back of his throat as Cook pushes against him, kisses desperate and hungry. David's eyes flutter closed as Cook nips at his throat and he doesn't care that they're still out in the corridor, that _anyone_ could see them.

Cook hears noises or _something_ though, because he pulls back, smirking at the whining noise David makes instinctively. "We can't go in my cabin, too likely to be interrupted," he says, and how he can even _talk_ is beyond David because he's dizzy and uncomfortably turned on and all he that he wants is _Cook_.

They escape from the corridor, heading further down into the ship until they arrive at the large room holding all of the cars. David sits inside one of the carriages, marvelling at the fine furnishings but the want, the _need_ for Cook is still ever-present, in his heart and between his legs.

Cook sits up in front, in the driver's seat, playing with the reins and turning to grin at David. "Where to?"

And David just, he _can't_ be witty, he can't even wait, not now, not when he's just got Cook back to him, so he doesn't even hesitate in reaching forward and tugging Cook through the empty window into the carriage.

"I need you," he says quietly, but it's loud enough to fill the space between them and turn Cook's eyes dark.

David feels moisture on his hand as it slaps against a window.

\---

David doesn't know what's happening but people are running and screaming. When they got out of the carriage, the floor was filled with water, and the whole ship was tipping from side to side. 

"Johns," David says, horror struck, at the same time as Cook says, "Andrew." 

They both look at each other and Cook says, "I'm not leaving you," as he tightens his grip on David's hand. Getting on deck is easy, no one is around, and Cook finds Andrew almost straight away in a boat with his life jacket on.

"Go!" David says, pushing at Cook, and it's dark and David feels half asleep but he knows, he _knows_ that he's got to get Cook onto that boat. 

Andrew looks at him, a silent thank you as Cook grips his hands and says, "I said I wouldn't leave you."

"I'm going to find Michael and we'll get in our own boat," David says calmly, willing Cook to believe him, to just get into the boat. Cook searches his face but David isn't backing down, and eventually Cook nods and gets into the boat. David's heart is still in his mouth but Cook is safe, he's _safe_, and that's all that matters right now.

When he finds Johns, Johns is dead.

David freezes, horrified, and his hands are shaking and he can't think straight because this is _Michael Johns_, who's saved his life and helped him survive. He falls onto his knees because his legs can't support him anymore, not when Johns is lying there looking asleep, with blood covering his chest.

He says "What happened?" three times before any words come out and when they do, they're ripped out of his chest in a hoarse gasp.

An old lady stood nearby kneels next to him, one hand on his back (but David just wants Cook, wants _Johns_). "He was trying to get the lower class on a boat," she says reassuringly. "He tried rushing the boats, but they shot him. He died a hero."

It's supposed to be comfort but all David can think of is how much he needs Johns, and of Stacy; of Johns telling him that he fell in love with Stacy the first time he saw her, of how excited he was to be going home to her. That maybe if David had stayed and not run off to find Cook, maybe they could have avoided this, maybe Johns would still be alive.

Someone is leaning over Johns and undoing his life jacket and David says, "No!" and pushes them back only it's _Cook_, and why is Cook here? He's supposed to be on a boat.

"Archie, Archie, _David_," Cook says, hands on his shoulders, and David collapses sobbing into his chest.

"You can't take it, you can't take his life jacket."

"He doesn't need it anymore and you _do_, David," Cook says and David is too tired to argue. Strong hands slip it on over his head and fasten it across his chest.

"You're supposed to be on a lifeboat," David says, into Cook's shoulder, and Cook smiles and says, "I said I wouldn't leave you."

\---

When David wakes up, they are in the water. Cook's shaking him over and over saying, "Wake up, wake up," and David wishes he hadn't.

"What happened?" he says, and his voice doesn't work for three tries (and all David can think is _I'll never sing again_). It sounds hoarse and breathless, a tiny weak squeak of a voice, but Cook looks like he just heard something beautiful.

"You passed out," Cook tells him, one hand stroking over David's hair and David says, "You should have left me."

"I'll _never_ leave you," Cook says fiercely, and David realises that he's only half on the wooden door they are floating on, that Cook's holding him on with one hand.

David is so tired and so cold, but he can't sleep, not yet. Not when Cook is looking at him like that, eyes half-lidded, particles of frost sparkling in his hair (and he looks so good, even now, it's unfair, David thinks illogically). David isn't going to survive this. It's not -- he's not being, like, _morbid_ or anything, it's just... he doesn't feel like he's going to make it. But he doesn't mind, because Cook _will_ make it.

"I don't regret it, you know," he says, his lips barely parting. Every word (every _breath_) is an effort but he manages to get them out.

Cook squeezes his hand, weakly, and David only just registers the pressure. "Regret what?"

"_This_," David tells him, and he tries to gesture in the direction of the Titanic (or what's left of it) but his arm is so heavy, he can't manage to lift it. Cook's looking at him, not understanding, and David takes more breaths even when every one rubs his throat raw. "The Titanic... winning those tickets, being on board. It was... the best thing that ever happened to me, Cook."

"You've got a strange sense of priorities if this is the best thing," Cook says, but his tone is serious. "David--"

"No, listen to me," David insists, ignoring the pain scratching at his throat (ignoring the fact he's never going to sing again. He never needs to, anyway, because that song with Cook on the deck of the ship is all the singing he's ever needed). "_You_ are the best thing that's ever happened to me... I love you."

"Don't say your goodbyes," Cook says, his voice so low that it's little more than a vibration in his throat. "Don't do this to me, Archie, you're going to make it through this, _we're_ going to make it through this."

"You are," David agrees. "Promise me you'll take care of my family?" It's dark, so dark that he can see nothing except the moonlight reflecting from Cook's eyes, and he's glad he can't read Cook's expression or he'd probably weep right now.

"I promise," Cook says, after what seems like an age, and David lets out another breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Cook will be okay, David knows this, and so will his family. It's okay, it's all okay.

"And you're going to... meet someone else," David adds, a smile beginning to curl the corners of his lips. "And you're both going to be so happy, Cook, just... promise me you won't hold onto... onto this? Don't let this hold you back."

"Don't talk like this, Archuleta," Cook says fiercely, but he's beginning to swim before David's eyes and it's getting harder and harder to hold on. "I love you, hold on, please hold on. Don't let go of me, David."

"Let go of me," David says, "You have to let go," and Cook's crying, David can hear it, but he's so warm and so happy now. "I love you," David says, and he closes his eyes (and the last thing he sees is Cook). The boats are coming back, David can hear them, and all Cook has to do is let go of him and David can sleep and Cook can survive and everything will be wonderful.

And Cook lets go.

And David sleeps.


End file.
